Going Wrong by Ruth Rendell

the Achilles Statue. Maeve didn’t turn her head again. For all he knew, they might be going to meet Leonora for a pre-lunch drink somewhere, they might be on their way to fill her up with warnings so that by the time he and she met at one, she would be well-armed against him and on her guard. He had surely been wrong to lay all the blame for Leonora’s change of heart—or outward change—at Tessa’s door. Others were just as much to blame, or more so. Maeve and Robin were even more powerful enemies.
    It was still early. Guy retraced his steps a little way, walked through into Knightsbridge by the Albert Gate, and stood looking into Lucienne Phillips’ window at the clothes that would have all looked wonderful on Celeste and at one short-skirted dark blue satin dress that might have been designed for Leonora.
    “I suppose you had that rubbish put in the paper to please your family,” Guy said.
    He and Leonora were in Cranks, which was very crowded. They were not even able to get a table to themselves. As it was, they sat pressed up against the wall while four very young girls dominated the table, giggling loudly, tasting each other’s food and talking about office rivalries. Guy had already reproached Leonora for suggesting they come here. It was a very long time since he had been in a self-service restaurant. He had had to queue up for his food, which was quiche and salad, the least offensively vegetarian on offer. At any rate he had managed to get a glass—in fact, three glasses—of wine.
    They were both speaking in necessarily low voices. Not that their table companions took any notice of them. Leonora was also wearing the summer Saturday uniform of jeans, T-shirt, and white running shoes. Her jeans were blue denim, her T-shirt blue, white, and mauve stripes. She had a mauve headband on between her fringe and the rest of her hair. Guy thought she looked lovely in spite of what she wore, but for all that he would have liked to see her in a dress when she came out to lunch with him. The first thing he had looked for he had not found, to his great relief. The absence on her finger of an engagement ring helped give rise to his remark.
    She said in a pleasant, even tone, “If it had been entirely up to William and me, no, I don’t think we’d have bothered to announce it. I don’t think, come to that, we’d have ‘got engaged.’ My parents wanted it, and so did his. It’s a small thing to do to give so much pleasure, don’t you think?”
    “I see.” He laughed a little. “I know you always do what your parents want.”
    She didn’t deny it. “Why did you call it rubbish, Guy? I told you I was in love with William.”
    “I’d call that rubbish too.” He finished the first of his glasses of wine. Leonora was drinking apple juice, looking at him over the top of her glass in what he interpreted as a sulky way. He changed the subject. “You never told me Maeve was going about with your brother.”
    “I suppose I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
    “Everything even remotely connected with you interests me, Leo, you ought to know that. I saw them in the park. They were walking along ahead of me. Have you been with them before you met me?”
    “What, just now, d’you mean? Of course I haven’t, Guy. Why would I? They don’t want to spend their Saturdays with me.”
    “Where does he live now?”
    “Now he lives in Chelsea, he’s just moved. I think he’d like Maeve to move in with him, and perhaps she will when I’ve gone.”
    He let that pass. The girls were leaving. The table was littered with their debris, but at least, for the time being, it was left to him and Leonora. He leaned a little towards her.
    “You haven’t really changed in your feelings towards me, have you? You feel the same as you always have, but you think, or you’ve been persuaded, that being involved with me wouldn’t be wise, wouldn’t be a good thing for you. That’s it, isn’t it?”
    She spoke carefully,